Wandering1
by RapiDe
Summary: Meet a woman Lara Croft would have liked-400 years before she was born...


**Standard legal bits: I don't own Lara Croft, the Tomb Raider franchise or anything connected with them, these are owned by Eidos and I am not trying to breach any copyrights and will not make any money from this fictional publication. However, all characters that appear in this story apart from Lara Croft are of my own creation, and are copyright Rhys D. If you want to borrow any of them, ask, I'll most likely say yes but if someone uses them without my permission I will be upset.**

**Disclaimers: This story contains fairly graphic violence and scenes that may disturb. If any of this is unacceptable for you please read no further. Finally, constructive criticism is appreciated far more than swearing, hate mail, death threats and similar, so please engage common sense when sending criticism/comments. Otherwise, enjoy the story and drop me a line about what you think of it when you've read it. Just for the record, this is part one of a two-part story by the way. **

**Times Past**

_(Note: these are transcripts directly from a four hundred and twenty-year-old notebook, translated from Spanish. Therefore, 100 accuracy is unlikely if not impossible, so what is written here should not be taken as the absolute and final truth. Also, attempts to confirm stated origins of one "Torlaqua de Toleros" have so far failed to yield any results, so it appears possible that the given name of the writer may be falsified or altered in some way for some reason. Because of this, the accuracy of these writings and their authenticity is further questioned, but due to the circumstances of their discovery I am still inclined to believe that they are likely genuine and that for some reason serious attempts have been made to erase the entire existence of "Ms. Toleros". There is no definite evidence either way, so I include these here for the perusal of whomever may read this and leave the reader to make up their own mind about the subject in question. _

_Extra: If evidence is forthcoming to either prove or disprove what is in question, it will be noted here for said purpose. Fingers crossed, I have a feeling that finding anything that can resolve the questions posed here will be almost impossible to uncover or discover without a great deal of research and time dedicated to the subject, and such things are not really my field of expertise, no matter what people think. I discover ancient tombs, temples, artefacts and treasures, I don't go into trying to uncover the background of specific individuals I might come across except on very rare occasions, although this might qualify as one. Memo to self, forward a copy of notes on subject to "Warren & Clark Investigations", since past experience has shown them to be good at unravelling mysteries like this, and this really is more their territory than mine-Lara Croft.) _

_Diary, February 10th, 1578_

I have just had a very strange encounter with a woman who I doubt I would recognise if I saw her again in broad daylight, let alone in the dead of night in what was little morethan a darkness than seemed more suited to cellars and the pits where criminals are held than to fields outside a town. I took my sword, although the messengerwho summoned me seemed harmless enough, a boy-child of about ten years with corn hair and grey eyes dressed in dirt-stained rags as most peasants are, although it seemed unlikely that anyone who would use such a messenger who carried such a message would intentionally or otherwise intend me harm.

I have my enemies, yes, but I have made none that I know who would stoop low enough to use a child against me, although I am learning that there are some who do not care who or what is hurt as long as their aim is achieved. However, my trusty blade has served me well many times before, and I no longer go where I am uncertain without it, so it went with me there. I swear on my eternal soul, though, that I knew that even it would not be enough the moment I saw the woman I had been called to meet, and I fear that I was lucky to leave the meeting alive. I note below what occurred so I shall not forget it, now or ever, should I ever happen across such a one again.

I was called to the fields outside of my home in Madrid at time of the witching hour by the messenger, who would say no more than some "pretty lady" who "had hair like yours and eyes that caught and held the watchers like the rising sun, the colour of the sky about the rising sun" had given him a message for me to meet her at a place in the fields that I knew at the time of the witching hour. The boy truthfully knew no more as far as I could tell, so I let him go and resolved to meet this woman myself and discover just why she wanted to meet me. Few these days even like to be seen in the company of the fallen one of the Toleros family, Torlaqua the whore, Torlaqua the thief, Torlaqua the witch, all of these and more I have been called, and all of them are true to some degree, although not in the ways that their speakers would wish, and to be seen with me is to risk ridicule and abandonment.

I am no witch, but I wear men's clothes if I wish, live alone and can use a blade or a gun and so am seen as a witch since women do not do these things. I say it is good that a woman should control her own life, be able to do what she wishes when and where she wishes, but such behaviour would be unacceptable from the peasants, and is intolerable in one of the families imperials chosen daughters, so I am outcast, cut off and alone, penniless and in the gutter, but I do not mind overmuch, it allows me to do things I never would be able to otherwise. As for being a thief, one does what one must to survive, and it is not as though the great families cannot spare it-and I should know. As for being a whore-I spit on such a word. I would never prostitute myself no matter my state, although my beauty draws the eyes of men wherever I go and would undoubtedly earn me many a penny more than living the way I do does, but I am a young and healthy woman, and I like the feel of a man against my skin sometimes. If that makes me a whore, then so be it. I dressed as I ever do to meet the woman, in white tunic, black boots, blood red trousers and jacket. There was no rain or clouds, but, strangely, as I waited the moon disappeared as though into the night itself-just before the woman I was to meet appeared. The boy had been right, the woman had my hair, raven-black and silken smooth, even of a similar length, falling to just below her waist as does mine, but that was where the similarity between the two of us ended.

People ask me why I wear such strange colours, the colour of blood against the virgin purity of white, and I tell them, although they rarely listen, just why. When I was fourteen, my parents were both drowned at sea when their ship was caught in a storm and sank with the loss of all hands. I never loved my father, he was strict and silent, authority in the flesh, focused on the need to bring up sons and daughters that would continue the family and make him proud. He was not beyond taking his belt to my brothers to teach them their place, or to me although never in ways that would scar. Or to mother, although he thought I never knew, to be assured that she would remain in her place and do what was necessary and expected of her to ensure that the family was brought up correctly. Poor, beloved mother, that one dim light in my early life that seemed to shrink as I got older although it never quite went out. He never broke her, no matter how he tried, but I saw it in her eyes, the resignation, the weariness with it all, the pain-and the wish for release. I could see what I would become if I lived her life as I was expected to in her eyes and in her face, and I saw it one last time before she and father left the final time and never came back. One last hug, one last long look, then she left. I have to admit now, I wondered if she knew what was going to happen in some strange way that day, she seemed happier than I'd ever seen her before, as though she was going on one last adventure and had made her peace with God before she did so. But I'll never know, and I stray from the point.

After my parents deaths at sea, I became determined to prove that I could tame the sea and defeat what had destroyed my parents, as were both of my brothers, although they tried to hold me back of course. They tried to continue what father had begun, but they were not father, and I was always fighting with them to prove myself in my own eyes as well as theirs. To this end, when I was seventeen I stowed away on a ship out of Spain, intent on doing so just to prove that I could survive on a ship full of men in the wild oceans, that I could do as well as or better than either of my brothers could, leaving them a note telling them so. I would have, to, but the ship was attacked and sunk by pirates and I spent the next three weeks fighting off lusty pirates, other angry prisoners, rats, hunger and thirst. I survived, and eventually escaped near Britannia by stealing a small boat and fleeing to France from where I made my own way back to Spain and eventually Madrid. However, I was never the same after that, and my brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmother and grandfather combined could not control me, so they threw me out and did their best to forget I ever existed.

I fought loneliness and depression, finding myself out in the streets with nothing but a name and the clothes I stood up in to call my own, and proved all that I had left to prove to myself. I lived by myself in a self-made home, selling my services to those who could afford them, making and selling what I could to help me survive, and created the clothes I wear to honour and remind me of my parents and my promise to defeat and tame what took them from me. But I stray, back to my remembrances.

While the colours I wear are hardly bright, the woman's clothes were darker. Black shirt, black leggings and a cloak that was swept over her shoulders and fell down her back to her feet, covered by black boots. Black gloves also covered her hands and most of her arms, ending just above her mid upper arm. Her clothes were tight enough to leave little to the viewers imagination of the curving flesh that clearly lay under them, and she stood in an easy, assured stance, as though she had nothing to be worried about and not a care in the world. She was also of rare beauty, and, again, the boy had been right. Once I locked eyes with her, I doubt being stabbed could have drawn my eyes from hers. Crystal blue eyes, gaze as sharp as a diamonds edge, locked with my sea green ones, and I swear I felt my soul begin to slip away at the sight. Her skin was strange, pale, white even, as though I was looking at a being more ghost than flesh, and if I hadn't seen her garb and looked into her eyes I suspect that is what I would have thought her. My instinct was to reach for my sword sheathed at my side at first, but I found that I could not move, and the woman's cold blue eyes were strangely calming, causing me to relax despite my feelings of impending danger.

"Torlaqua de Toleros?" she then asked, breaking me out of the strange spell that her gaze had been casting on me. Her voice was silken smooth, like the feeling one gets when one runs the tip of a finger over purest silk. Her voice itself was relaxing, soft and easy, attractive even, like her, sultry and sexual with no attempt made to conceal this in any form or way. May God have mercy on my soul, but merely speaking to, let alone seeing this woman, brought forth thoughts that one should never have about one of one's own kind. I know not why, but even her presence in front of me drew my attention and thoughts like nothing else ever has, or will I suspect.

It took all the strength of will I possessed to draw myself back from where my mind was going, and I resolved to resolve what was occurring as fast as possible so that I could get as far away from this woman as I could. "Si, senorita, I am she. May I ask what is your reason for calling me here?" I replied.

"No need, I wish to explain anyway. It is a simple matter and will not take much time to explain if you listen closely and do not interrupt. Understood?" she replied. She spoke Spanish as though born to it, with an accent that would not have seemed out of place in any noble house. How, I did not know, nothing about her spoke to me as being of Spanish blood, indeed, the smooth lines of her face and her bearing did not remind me of any people I knew, and in my wanderings I have met many. Just who was this strange woman, I wondered, and just what did she want with me? "Si" I replied, wishing her to continue as quickly as possible.

"Good. It is as simple as this, Torlaqua de Toleros. I have heard that you are an adventurer, a woman of skill and courage who is not afraid to step outside of the boundaries of what you are allowed in this place and time. I respect that in a person, paticulary a woman, and that and other things I have heard of you drew me to call you here tonight. I understand that you were once a member of the Toleros family, before both of your parents were killed in a shipwreck and you, trying to prove that you could defeat the foe that had taken them, were captured by pirates when the ship you had stowed away on was attacked, for several weeks. After you escaped and returned here you were thrown out by your family as a "wild child", uncontrollable and free-spirited, determined to go your own way and do what you wished to do. I also understand that you now live on the money you receive from work you are hired for or can make one way or another. If this is the case, you are just the kind of person I am looking for, and I have a proposition that I know you will wish to hear. Interested?" said the woman.

She had shifted her position while she spoke, from merely standing upright to leaning slightly to her left with her hand on her right hip, and her now more clearly visible hand did not make me any more comfortable. Something was wrong in the shape of her fingers in the gloves, the ends of her fingers being far more pointed than they should have been unless the darkness was hindering my eyesight, which I did not think it was. Noblewomen do wear their fingernails longer than is practical, I should know, I was one once after all, but the woman's fingertips seemed shaped-differently. They seemed much to sharp and pointed, almost clawed, like an animals, like a cat. That was something which the woman suggested to me from the way she looked and moved, although I tried to avoid the great cats when I went to places where they might be.

She was like a Tiger, stalking its prey slowly through the grass, hunting it, moving slowly closer and closer until it was time to attack-and to kill. Although I try to avoid such creatures, I confess to having seen them hunting, and the sight of it and the end of the hunt is one you will never forget. After so long stalking its prey, all you see is a sudden blur of yellow and black, a mass of muscle strengthened by bone suddenly charging, an almost perfect killing machine launching itself at its prey almost faster than the eye can follow. If the prey is quick, sometimes it has a chance, but if the hunter succeeds in getting close enough to fasten teeth or claws into the prey then the prey is dead. It is that simple, I have seen it with my own eyes, even the largest of creatures struggles only for a time and then falls, torn apart by claws and fangs as sharp and deadly as any blade. But I have seen the difference between man and beast, and I call man the deadliest creature on this world, no matter what some may say. People call animals wild and lethal, but I have seen a man attack and kill a Tiger with no more than what nature gave him and live to tell the tale, and any person with blade or gun who can use either stands more than a chance of victory in such a battle from what I have seen.

However, animals have one skill that people tend to lack. People can move around others without being seen, can follow them without being detected, and can kill a person instantly without that person even ever knowing they were there. Animals, though, are the true hunters, they will follow their prey over distances people would not even consider, will wait until the time is right no matter what and will always go for the kill no matter what they attack. Few people will do this, or can, and the best of them are more animal than man. These are the true predators, the shadows in the night, the smell in the wind, the flicker in the eye, the wave on the ocean, the feeling at the back of the neck that something is there, the nightmares that will not stop no matter what. This was what I saw in the woman, and I feared it.

She was not a human or an animal, but some kind of melding of both, and she had the best of both worlds. Her eyes missed nothing, her seemingly relaxed stance did not conceal her taut body from me. She was on edge, like she was hunting something, or waiting for something, but I had no wish to know what, now or ever. "Si...how do you know so much about me, senorita?" I replied. Although my exploits and history were hardly a secret, only someone who had taken the trouble to gather a great deal of information regarding me would have known so much about me, which could not have been easy for her since she looked the same age as me. I wondered, with not a little disquiet, just why this strange woman would be so interested in me.

"People talk, I listen, a useful habit I have developed over the years. It is not important, here is what is. I have discovered the existence of an ancient item in a buried temple recently discovered in the New World (_Note: this refers to modern South America for anybody who doesn't understand the reference-LC)_ which I wish to acquire. The other treasures in the temple are yours to do with as you wish, but they will not be recovered by anyone else, no matter what you may hear. The Aztecs did not build the temple, a people long before them did, and they guarded their treasures well.

No one will succeed in recovering anything from the temple who is any less skilled and dedicated than you are, and if you do not focus on the task at hand even you will not succeed. I wish you to recover a treasure known as the Ruby Chalice for me, and in return I will pay for whatever you require or do involving acquiring the Chalice for me, as well as giving you land and money wherever you wish-I can arrange a title as well if you wish. The money means nothing to me, before you ask, I have more than I could ever spend, and anything can be bought in this land, so do not worry about the rest. Of course, this is all only possible if you do what I ask and are successful. Do you agree to the deal?" she said.

I was not sure whether to believe her or not, but it sounded to good to even consider passing up if it was. As well as that, I wished to leave as quickly as possible, so I simply replied "Si, senorita. I would be a fool not to take such a deal, and I am not one." She smiled at my reply, but it failed to warm her face or her at all. "However, if I may...?" I continued, my manner of asking if I could ask any more questions bringing a slight frown to the woman's face. As much as I wished to be away, I had a feeling that now that I had agreed to do what this woman had asked of me that I would be unable to go back on my word, even should I wish to. Due to this, and the fact that with what I knew I was not sure that I would be able to complete my task, I had to discover more from this woman before we parted ways.

"You may" she replied, although I did not need to see her face to know that she was unhappy about my questioning. "First of all, senorita, how am I to know this temple? I have never been to the New World, and have no idea what to look for and little of what to expect. Second, I have no idea what this Ruby Chalice looks like or is, if you could enlighten me as to these things I would be far more likely to succeed. Finally, how am I to contact you should I need to speak to you about anything that may occur or appear, and how will I find you once I return with the Chalice to claim my price?" I asked.

"You will find the temple in the north-east of the land, near the coast, there will be ancient statues and symbols around the place that no-one will recognise or understand and the entrance will be through a cave mouth. Your people there have recently discovered the temple as I understand it, but do not yet understand what it is they have discovered. I would advise that you get to that place with all possible speed, for should anyone be foolish enough to set foot inside the temple with no idea what it is, as I said, they will never leave it.

The Ruby Chalice is a large cup mounted atop a slim stem with a flat base, seemingly made of the finest crystal. It will be mounted atop something, likely an altar if the legends of it are true, and it will never reflect any light shined upon it. When you touch it, it will likely go blood red and appear to be moving about as though truly created of blood. I advise you not to hold it too long in your bare hands, no matter that you will unlikely be able to destroy it, since it will sap your strength and will the longer you hold it to your skin, although this may be only legend. As to contacting me" she said, shaking her head, "I will contact you if necessary. Arrangements have been made, people have their instructions, you will lack for nothing and I will find you once you return and reward you when I hold the Chalice myself. I trust that you do not need to be lead to the temple itself or anything similar?" replied the woman, a sarcastic tone in her voice and look in her eyes.

"No, senorita, I can manage, thank you. Just one last thing. You know my name, but I do not know yours, and I make it a point to know the real names and faces of those I work for whenever possible as a matter of importance so that I do not end up working for someone who will get me killed merely by my being aware of their existence. I hope this is not to much to hope for, senorita?" I asked, trying to ignore the twist in my guts that always occurs when I know that I might well have sealed my fate one way or another through actions or words. However, for the first time, at my words I saw the slightest hint of a genuine smile briefly light her eyes and twitch her lips at my question, although it did little to dispel the uneasiness I felt around this woman. She actually let out a brief chuckle before replying, her voice slightly warmer than it had been before.

"You have courage, Torlaqua, and spirit. I like that, so I will answer your question, although you will be one of the few who knows this. My name is Lilith, and I wish you good speed and good hunting in your quest. Try and come back alive, but don't come back to me without the Chalice. There are too few like us in this world, Torlaqua, but that does not mean that I will accept failure from you anymore than I would from anyone else. Goodbye for now" said Lilith, then turned away and strode into the darkness. Before she had disappeared from sight, I, too, had turned and left that place, and was much happier for it. I had never said I would do something before this time and then not done it, on purpose at least, but something about what was occurring here seemed so strange to me that I really considered it for the first time in my life. But I had told Lilith the truth, whoever she was, her offer was to tempting to pass up if I was to be honest with myself. Not to mention the odd feelings that the woman created in me, lust, a sense of uneasiness, and-no matter how much I tried to ignore it-fear, as much as if not more than anything else. I was dancing with death to even consider actually doing what I had been asked, I knew, but I liked a challenge, and only living on the edge of life could satisfy me any longer. As well as that, this would undoubtedly provide me with the secure base that I needed to live the life I wanted, and for such a thing there was almost nothing I would not do.

I would do it, I decided, despite my feelings of disquiet about what was occurring and going to occur, but after that I would stay well away from Lilith and those like her as much as I possibly could. After all, I was sure that I would be able to find ways to live the kind of life that I wanted without going back to Lilith or those like her, it was a big world out there just waiting to be explored and I was just the person to do it.

_Diary, February 21st, 1578_

_Sangue de cristo_...who _is _that woman I have agreed to work for? I have worked for people before the mere mention of the name of whom was enough to ensure the co-operation of any who had heard even the slightest rumour of them, yet the worst of those did not draw the reaction from people that her name and symbol does. I wear her symbol on a golden chain around my neck, a silver bird, a raven, I am told, but I do not need to be told that there is something odd about this one. It is not true silver, for certain, I have seen and touched enough of the real kind to know the difference by touch as much as taste and sight, but it is not formed of any metal I have ever seen either. I cannot bend it no matter how I try, and my blade cannot mark it. I was given the symbol to wear by a man, who came to inform me that passage on the good ship _Malisia _had been booked for me in a weeks time to give me time to prepare what I would need, as well to give me a bag of more gold than I have seen since I was forced from the family home. "Use what you need" he said, then left without another word.

He wore ragged brown clothes, an old shirt and trousers, a pair of black boots and had a untidy mop of tangled mud-brown hair curling all over his face, a beard hanging over his belly filthy with scraps of food and more kinds of dirt than I wished to imagine. I would not recognise him again if I saw him in the street, and I would not wish to. I must admit, I suspect that this was Lilith's intent, but I do not wish to dwell on such things, I merely wish to do what I have been asked to and then to never see Lilith again. I put the money to good use, getting what I needed with much of the money unused, so I treated myself, something I have been unable to do in years except on rare occasions. The man in the cake shop I know was happy to give me several freshly baked cakes when I arrived even so early in the morning, and they tasted like sweetest nectar on my tongue. It is a pity, really, that I could not carry more with me. One of the good things I discovered upon coming to this place was that the food, despite it being hard to acquire the delicacies that my family could, tends to be, while plain and simple fare, wholesome and filling. I quickly discovered that I could easily live without what I had come to expect in my former home, I admit, and I do not miss it. However, this is not what I intended to put here, so back to what I did.

It was the strangest thing, when I walked into the forge to have my sword and daggers repaired and to buy more powder and balls for my pistol. I was greeted by a surly blacksmith, a giant of a man, over six feet tall and with corded muscles that I swear made him look as though he could bend steel in his bare hands, and I believe that he could have. What occurred once I entered the forge he worked in, however, is what I record here.

The blacksmith had dark black hair and a roughly edged face blackened by smoke and soot from working long hours at his forge. His eyes were dark brown, and stared at me with a mixture of contempt and interest. I could tell that he thought that I could not be doing anything worthwhile as a woman in a place of work like his, dressed as I was, even bearing weapons as I was, yet I could also tell that he was interested in why a woman such as myself would come to him no matter what the reason. As with all men, though, his eyes wandered from my face to my feet slowly, caressing and undressing me as they did. Those I know know better than to take such chances with me, they know that they take their lives in their hands if I am in a bad mood when they do, and risk various extremities by annoying me in any case. This man did not, but he realised quickly what he was risking when his eyes first met mine. Nonetheless, he smiled broadly, a smile that some women might have found attractive. Not me, I have more respect for myself than to succumb to the advances of such a fool in any shape or form, I know how to tell the good from the bad, and one look into his eyes let me know all that I ever would need to know about the man.

"Wait one moment, please, senorita" said the man, moving over to a bucket near a wall. Picking up a cloth dripping with water, he wiped the blackness from his face, revealing a rough bristle around his jaw and a thin white scar running over his right eye from his forehead to his jaw. It did not look like a blade wound, being too thin and small, besides which if a blade had slashed his face in such a fashion as to have caused such a wound I could not see how he could still have his eye. He was bare- chested and stank of sweat and smoke, wearing a thick apron and gloves of a dark black colour and a heavy pair of trousers and boots, dark brown both but smeared with dark stains. "There. Now, what was it you wanted, please?" he asked, a slight smile still on his face.

I had to resist the urge to remove the expression on his face by force or by cutting words, since I required his services, and instead merely unbuckled my sword belt and placed it and my daggers on the anvil in front of him. "These are in need of repair, senor. I can pay well for it, and wish them finished by tomorrow, understand? I have business to attend to, and need them repaired to attend to it" I said. He looked down at my weapons, then back at me, a confused expression on his face mixed with a glint of calculation in his eyes that I did not miss. It is pathetic, really, that men think they are better bargainers's than women simply because of the fact that they wear different clothes and are the physically stronger of the two kinds of people.

I have met few that have even come close to matching the sharpness of my mind, and just as few who can match me physically with blade or gun. I am called freak by some, an offence against nature by others, but I can solve puzzles and defeat challenges of the physical and the mind that few men could even guess at, and am a match or more for most men in physical challenges that do not simply involve nothing but brute strength. No man I have ever met has been able to lay hand on me if I did not wish him to, and I have been compared to the acrobats who ply their trade in the festivals that are held at times in my ability to move my body how I wish, jumping, climbing and rolling around in any number of ways. Truth be told, I once tried their trade when one of them challenged me to prove my reputation, and found it exhilarating if easy, leaving my name held in high regard in the festivals circles and having to turn down offers from those who wished me to use my skills in simple competitions. There is no challenge in such things, and I live for the challenge in whatever shape or form it takes. But I digress, back to what I wish to recall.

"Surely, senorita, you do not truly use such things? These are a mans weapons, and that man should be ashamed that his woman should need to bring his weapons to me to be repaired rather than bringing me them himself. If you would tell me who truly owns these, senorita, I will repair them and then see to it for you that he does not do this again. Besides, I will have them finished in three days, maybe four, at the earliest. I have others awaiting my work to be completed, senorita, and it will take more than a pretty face to cha-" he said, but I had had enough. A trick I learnt while I was making my way back to Spain after escaping from the pirates, taught to me by another traveller whose name I never learned, since he was called only "Masque", was to hide coins in my hands without clenching my fists or holding my hands against my sides. It allows one to keep secreted more than money, but also allows one to have a way of getting the attention of others quickly if it is necessary. As I well know, gold corrupts anybody in great enough amounts, and the blacksmith was no exception. His eyes lit up at the sight of the gold coins in my hand, and I did not need to see his face to know that he was practically salivating at the sight.

"Of course, senorita, I could simply forget that I saw you and do the work anyway, but I cannot, in truth, do the work in less than three days. I have many wanting my work for themselves who pay well, and others who pay little but always have what they asked for done in time, a subject I do not wish to elaborate on here. Unless you make it worth my time with more than money..?" said the man. An idiot, if a good worker, si? I resolved to finish this quickly. "Senor blacksmith, there is something you should understand. About me, and about what I am asking you to do" I said, slowly, deliberately allowing a soft, easy tone into my voice that I know men find irresistible. As I did so, I stepped closer to him, and gently trailed a finger down his right cheek, my soft skin sliding smoothly over his rough and hairy hide. Of course, his eyes were fixed on my face, but flickered to my chest and back so quickly I am not sure if he even knew he was doing it so obviously to me. His breathing sped up as I stood close to him, touching him with my finger to his cheek, and his eyes quickly became wild, his hands clenching and unclenching, the muscles in his arms flexing.

I was walking on dangerous ground here, it was obvious, the blacksmith clearly missed the company of a woman and had done so for some time from his reaction, but I did not care. I live for the risks that make one feel alive, that let one know that one is truly alive, moments of clarity and purity that transcend anything else I have ever felt, and dealing with a dangerous man is just another one of these. Besides which, men are often fools who have no understanding of a woman's needs or wants, thinking that all a woman needs is a good husband with a title and money which will make her happy to live out her life in luxury producing children who will never know or understand real life any more than she will, and will in due time end up a withered old husk locked away somewhere while her children go on to take her and her husbands place from when she was younger, eventually dying and being buried in a vault with the rest of the family she married into for a pale shadow of the existence that she could have had, that I now know.

I still wish to be buried with my family when it is my time, but my life makes it unlikely I will ever rejoin my family in life or in death. Am I bitter? Yes. Am I angry? Yes. Would I go back to what I once had if I was given the chance to forget the past and return to the person and life that once was mine? No, not if eternity itself beckoned me. I have seen to much, done to much, I know what the world is truly like now, all my illusions have been cut away, my dreams shattered and destroyed, but I have found new dreams that are better than before, and will live this life for them, wherever they take me, until I no longer can, or until I finally loose my battle to keep the night one step behind me, and the endless darkness that one never wakes from engulfs me at last. I stopped being afraid of death after my parents death and the battle that led to my being captured by the pirates, when I was almost killed twice and stood on the edge of an abyss that has no meaning for anyone who has not been there for longer than anyone ever should. In that time, I gained an understanding of life and death that few ever do, and have tried to live up to what I learnt ever since.

Death is an old friend of mine now, always there, one step behind me, in the shadow of the sun, in the cool air at dawn and dusk, in the nights darkness and the seas coolness. A twinkle in the stars, a bent blade of grass, it is in all these places and is in none, the final release for the old and tired, the cool embrace and release from pain of the dying and the ill. Death is not a curse, nor is it a blessing, it is simply there, a final friend at the end of it all, a final release for those who need it, my constant companion at all times, the cool embrace that I sometimes feel at night about me, that follows me everywhere I go waiting for that one slip that only its arms will save me from. Maybe I am crazy, maybe I stayed too long by the abyss, looked into the darkness so long that I saw something there that I never should have done, that never should be seen, but I do not fear death, and when it is my time, I will go willingly and unafraid into whatever comes after with it leading me on. If anyone ever reads this, I can already hear what they will say. "Crazy? No, insane, or possessed, or mad in a way that I do not want to even think about". That is what will be said, and maybe they are not wrong, I do not truly know myself, but I try not to dwell on such things.

I live the way I do to get the most that I can out of my life, and if there are some odd parts to my life, well, I am not a normal person as any would say were they asked. A little difference is a good thing, as long as you do not dwell too much on just what such things truly mean, and I do not and will not. Life does not revolve around knowing yourself inside and out completely, although I know myself better than most do, it involves living as best you can, and that is what I do best. "First, senor, the weapons are mine. I travel the world doing as I see fit, but I cannot rely on mere goodwill to survive in a land that will try to eat you alive if you let it, I need them for protection, and I am more than willing to demonstrate that I can wield them, as well, should you need me to prove this more clearly. Secondly"-I dug my long fingernails sharply into his jaw, drawing blood, and he gasped in pain, but was a second to slow in reaching for my hand as I released him and drew back out of reach of his hands-"I make my own way in life, no-one owns me or controls me, I work for who I like when I like, and I really do not appreciate fools suggesting that I forget even the idea of pride and honour and lower myself to the point of cavorting with you for some reason only you could possibly understand.

Understand this, senor, I have killed people who would not listen to reason in these matters, and I will do it again, with or without weapons, should you continue to press me. Do the job and say nothing more and you will lead a longer, happier life. Annoy me, senor, and your life will quickly become much shorter and extremely painful. Do you understand me, senor? Have I left anything unclear about what I am saying?" I said, eyes cold.

He tried to look me in the eyes, but looked away quickly. He was not a weak man, but he knew when not to push his luck, unlike most, but I refused to allow myself to warm to him even as his hand ran over the shallow wounds on his face, his hand coming away with drips of blood on it. In a world where men dominate and control almost everything, I quickly found on being thrown out of my family home that if I was ever to make my way in the world as it existed I would have to become ruthless and use my mind to its fullest advantage. Over the years, I have become proficient at these skills, although sometimes I fear that I have allowed too much of the darkness that I keep locked away within my soul out into myself. We all have beasts inside us, the dark part of ourselves, the part of us that makes us capable of the act of killing, of cruelty, of the violence necessary to survive in a battle, parts which make us capable of evil and allow us to do what we would never do "normally", and in some of us the beast is more dangerous than most.

Soldiers have been taught to tame and control their beasts, to only release it when necessary, how it is required, while many people never even touch the darkness inside, although some, like thieves and pirates, murders who kill for no other reason than they want to, understand their darkness and revel in releasing it. I and those like me are different to any of these, however. We do not control our beasts, our darkness, we do not try to control them, we allow them free rein and allow them to work, keeping just enough of a tether on them to prevent ourselves from succumbing completely to what could be so that we remain what we are. We are the worst, the ones who will do what it takes to get something done and only allow ourselves to suffer afterwards. Sometimes, I scare myself with what I am capable of, but I must be as I am just to survive, whether or not I like it. "I understand, senorita, believe me. If I may ask just one more thing, though?" he asked.

"Si, although I do not guarantee that I will answer it, you understand" I replied, looking at him as he refused to meet my eyes once more.

"Si, senorita, but all I ask is this. Who are you working for, so that I know to move away quickly if it becomes necessary suddenly, if you please?" the man asked. It was a fair question, so I answered him, not expecting in the least the reaction that my answer would draw from him.

"The woman who hired me is one I had never heard of before I met her, so I doubt that she will cause you any trouble merely by her existence, but I still advise you not to repeat this to anybody. Her name is Lilith-is something the matter?" I asked, caught by surprise by the mans rapid change of expression. All of the colour drained from his face, making the scar on his face even more obvious, and he seemed to suddenly tremble before he recovered his wits enough to ask a further question, his eyes suddenly meeting mine once more, uneasy and-fearful? Why, I could not help but wonder, had mentioning the strange woman's name had such an effect on him?

"Senorita, let us be clear on this. Is Lilith a woman with hair like yours, very pale skin, blue eyes that hold yours no matter what once you look at her, as well as being of almost unearthly beauty and with a strange attraction that is almost irresistible to you no matter what you try?" the man asked. I looked at him, puzzled.

"You know her?" I replied, surprised. Any colour left in his face drained away at my answer, leaving only his eyes and hair to show that he was even still alive. Abruptly he turned away from me, picked my weapons up from his anvil and moved towards his tools.

"Everything will be ready tomorrow morning, senorita, no charge, simply arrive early and I will give them to you. My services are at your disposal should you require them otherwise" he said.

"Wait one moment, senor, how can-?" I began, but he cut me off, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Please, senorita, do not ask and just accept what I offer and leave now. Please, senorita, I assure you my work will be a perfect example, please leave, please, now" he said, practically begging me. I left that place then, I have to admit, completely confused as to just what had truly occurred in the forge with the blacksmith at the mention of Lilith's name. Something was nagging at my mind about the very name itself, but, for some reason I could not fathom, since I have an excellent memory, I could not understand what it was. I could only hope it would come to me.

_Diary, March 25th, 1578_

I have no fear of the sea, but, I will here admit, I do fear the vessels we travel in through it. The _Malisia_ was a good ship, sound of hull and of strong wood, crewed by experienced sailors and with comfortable sleeping places in cabins that one would expect nobility to be the only ones who were capable of affording, and, indeed, they were there, but I found myself in a cabin that was much more than I required, and was indeed one of the most comfortable on the ship. That did not stop me from feeling every roll of the ship, every wave crashing into the hull, the jerks that shifted the entire ship when the sails were let fully down to catch the full strength of the winds, nor did it stop me hearing every creak of the hull as the ship crashed through the sea, day and night, at all times, however.

I always have trouble accepting that the noises created by a ship as it moves through the sea do not, in truth, signal its imminent destruction, but I know they do not so I have reconciled myself to simply being constantly wary of any strange noises while I am aboard a ship such as the _Malisia_. It is not easy, I admit, but I find it easier to accept by standing at the prow of the ship and allowing the wind to blow through my hair while I look at the horizon, sunrise, sunset, the glory of a clear summers day with the sun shining down on me and the sea.

It is beautiful, it clears the mind and cleanses the soul, and it reminds me every time I do of why I swore never to allow the sea to defeat me in any way. The vast depths of this ocean swallowed my parents whole, and nearly me as well, and both of my brothers have gone to the sea as well in their own way to defeat the force that swallowed our parents, my elder brother to the navy as an officer, my younger brother as a junior officer aboard a different ship. We all fight our own separate battles against this great force, but I feel I have won mine, I do not see the sea as a dangerous obstacle any longer, I see it merely as a path to other places far away, to greater things than I know, and as a necessary evil that will permanently end the attempts of any foolish enough to simply suppose that it will merely allow them to do as they wish because they wish to. I respect the sea for what it is, a force in its own right, a friend and an enemy, but I do not allow it to control me. However, now my journey truly begins, as I have finally set foot in the New World, and my search for the Chalice begins.

First impressions? The town on the coast that the _Malisia_ sailed into for us to disembark seemed a poor place, with nothing that my eyes could see or that I could hear to redeem it for me. A few small buildings, of wood and nails seemingly, were all about the town, held together as much by the mud around them as their builder's skill. The paths and roads of the town were of mud, except, of course, for the one through the centre of the town leading to the Governors mansion, which was a large, expensive-looking structure of stone, the only one of its kind in the town, the Governor obviously more interested in assuring his own comfort than that of his people. There were no sources of water available that I could see, yet, in front of the Governors mansion, there was a fountain in a stone circle with water jetting from a statue of a fish in the centre of the fountain, very obviously. This did not speak well to me of the intelligence or conscience of the Governor as I saw what else there was to see in the town.

The heat was overwhelming, and insects of a kind I have never seen before in greater amounts than I ever wanted to hummed around making noises that cannot be described, only heard, in a mass that could quickly engulf a person were they not aware of the insects presence. There were few about of fair skin colour, a few men, fewer women, the majority of those I saw being soldiers in uniforms with muskets patrolling the town, occasionally prodding at one of the masses of dark skinned people standing about or moving slowly around the streets. I had never seen such strange looking people before, but the insects did not seem to bother them and there was clearly far more of them than of my own, so I decided that it would be to my best advantage to ignore the obvious strangeness of these people in favour of understanding them better, since those who were born in this strange place would know it better than those who had come to it.

The places to stay if visiting in the town were either very expensive or not worth living in, I quickly discovered on inspection, and I nearly accepted the captain of the _Malisia_'_s_ offer to share his table aboard ship one last time rather than go ashore to who could tell what sort of food and water, although it was obvious that he wished for more from me than merely sharing his meal were I to accept his offer. Nevertheless, since he was a handsome man, if somewhat overconfident in his ability to please me when he made his suggestion, I did consider it, but decided not to accept. My reasons, quite simply, were that I prefer to have set foot on land properly before I begin searching it for anything like I had arrived to search for, and I would get the chance to discover what a town like this one, called _Papadras_ I discovered, was really like once I arrived there in truth. I was glad to have arrived in the New World so that I could begin my search, but, I do not know why, a strange feeling of uneasiness which had been with me throughout the voyage refused to leave me even once I set foot on solid ground at last. I wonder, I must admit, just why I am beginning to feel so worried about what I am doing here, but I cannot let such things distract me from what I must do now. When I am successful, then I will have all the time I will ever need to think about these things.

_Diary, March 27th, 1578_

I discovered on my arrival in one of the simple hovels here that pass for Inns that there was a Festival on the Saturday, and I have never been able to resist a good party, so I stayed for it and spent my time before it purchasing what I will need on this long journey. I admit now that I enjoyed it, although I cannot help but think that we must have all drunken too much on that day and night since I, for one, cannot remember the last time I woke up with a hangover like a churches bells had been rung constantly inside my head all night and a tongue that feels like a thick plank of wood had been inserted into my mouth and nailed down while I was asleep. As well as that, I could not see straight for a full hour after waking up, my eyes being dry and blurry, and I stank of sweat and strong drink. If I needed any further proof of the fact that I had gotten more drunk than was wise no matter how I was feeling or whoever I was with I was presented with it in the shape of my even more drunk waking companion, a good looking Native slumped half in and half out of my bed, dark black hair and firmly muscled body open for my inspection since he was naked, as I was.

I will admit here, I was more than a little worried just what I might have done that I couldn't remember during the night, but even so I could be fairly sure that I would not have let my self-control slip to the degree that I would have done anything that would be considered too outrageous. After all, it was not as though I had never gotten drunk before, and friends who had been with me when I had before had assured me that the worst things I have ever gotten up to were dancing on the tables, swinging from chandeliers, drunken swordfights with people and, just once, selling myself for a night to the highest paying man from among ten I picked myself with a promise that I'd do whatever he wanted for that one night as long as it involved nothing and no-one but him and me. If waking up with someone I didn't recognise was the worst thing that a drunken day and night of partying had to offer me, it was a small price to pay for a far to rare opportunity for me to relax and let my guard down.

After I managed to drag myself out of the bed and bathe in the Inns bathing rooms, restoring myself to a semblance of consciousness that allowed me to walk normally, without weaving from side to side, and breathe without my breath rattling in my dry throat, I returned to my room and dressed, waking the man and sending him on his way, then had a brief breakfast before moving off about the town looking for someone who could either direct me or take me to the temple. _Papadras _was the main port in the area of the New World that I was in, and therefore I reasoned that a great many people would pass through it, and surely one of these would know of what I wished to discover. I did not have to look very far, it seemed that Lilith's information had been more accurate than I had hoped, to my dismay.

"A temple to the north-east, senorita? Newly discovered? No-one knows its builders or what it was used for? Si, I know the place, and my advice to you is to stay as far away from it as you possibly can. I was among those who discovered that place, and I was very nearly one of those who will never leave it. If you walk into that place, senorita, you will be walking into Hell itself as far as I know, and all I will do to help you do so is pray for your soul. Now please leave me alone, I am trying to drink myself to death and holding civilised conversations is not helping me do so" said the man I had found.

He was a great lump of a man, about thirty years old, slightly taller than me at just below six foot, thick arms and legs which looked to be more fat than muscle, a fat body that looked as though it had once been even fatter, with folds of loose skin around his neck and under his clothes from what I could tell. He was wearing broad leather trousers that barely contained his legs, small boots up to his ankles that were blackened and beaten, as though he'd walked great distances over bad terrain, and a loose dark blue shirt heavily marked by sweat and other, darker stains. To my surprise, I realised that some of the dark stains were actually blood, although evidently not his. He was wearing a rough eyepatch over his left eye, only one green eye showing, and his dark brown hair ran in a sweaty mess over his head. His face was round and fleshy, also, and he was ugly with it.

If he had travelled as he claimed and done what he'd done, I admit that either he could run faster than it looked as though he could, or he had some advantage that was not evident on a mere first appraisal. However, his expression and the way he spoke of what I had asked about made me believe what he said, and I trusted my instincts, which told me he was telling the truth as well, since trusting my instincts has kept me alive or healthy more times than I can count. I decided that to get anywhere with this man, I would have to try a different approach. I sat next to him on a stool, and tried again.

"Senor, I thank you for your warning, and I assure you, I will be careful, but I have seen and done things that I know that you would have nightmares about were I merely to tell you of them, I still do, so I am afraid that merely telling me that I would be walking into Hell in that Temple were I to enter it is not going to persuade me not to do so. Maybe you could tell me what happened to you though, senor? So that I can have a better idea of what to expect once I get there?" I asked. The man looked at me, smiled, then shook his head slowly.

"Senorita, would you, by any chance, be named Torlaqua de Toleros? Also, would someone be offering you a great deal of money to do this, possibly something else you want a great deal as well as a reward for something in the Temple?" asked the man. I had my answer as to why he was still alive, I realised at this point, behind the mans hulking body lay a wise mind that would as likely if not more so ensure his survival even in a place such as this. People may say that it is the ability to run or fight that allows you to survive in a wilderness such as this, but they are not quite right. To fight is to survive, to think is to learn, and the man, while being no fighter, was likely able to take care of himself if need be, his bulk likely being an actual advantage in doing so, and his sharp mind would allow him to use what he had to best advantage even in a place like this. I looked at him with some respect at this.

"You are correct, senor, with everything you said, but that is not your concern. If I may ask, though, how do you know my name?" I asked.

"Women like you, Miss. Toleros, are about as common as a fish in a desert, and only you are crazy enough to take an offer such as the one you obviously have. I know most of the men from Spain and here who call themselves "adventurers", Miss. Toleros, who claim to be here to find fame and fortune" said the man. He paused to spit on the floor, then continued, "But I also know idiots and liars when I see them, and those who come here believing that all that they have to do is be able to use a sword and open locked doors and they would find their fortune outnumber those who know better by fifty to one, I tell you now.

You are not one of those fools, Ms. Toleros, yet you are here, with a gun, a sword and with a look in your eyes that tells anyone who cares to look that you will not be stopped once you have set your mind on something, which it is clear is to reach this Temple and accomplish your task in this case. All these things I see in you, yet you wonder how I know you? The question should be how could I not?" said the man, raising his mug of beer to me before drinking from it.

I chuckled, "Fair point, senor, when it is put like that. But I am going to the Temple, as you say, so if you could direct me there or show me the way, I would appreciate it. Anything else you could tell me about the Temple itself would also be helpful, senor" I said, making eye contact with him. His eyes showed a glint of irritation, but he quickly succumbed to my stare, and sighed.

"Alright, senorita, I have a map that I drew and I can give you instructions on the route, and I can tell you what I know of the Temple itself, but once I have done this will you please leave me alone? It is not that I mind talking to beautiful young women, but I have not managed to forget what I saw at that Temple in a week of drinking and trying, and I have little wish to go back over what I saw there to anyone, no matter the reason. I will do it for you, senorita, since I have no wish to see you dead, but once I am done what you do with what I tell you falls on your own head" said the man his face going dark at some remembered sight.

"Si, senor, I understand. It always has, it always will" I replied, with a smile tugging at my lips.

Great God in Heaven save my soul should I fall in my quest, take me safely from this life to whatever awaits me at my end, let not the Devil wrest me from thy clutches and drag my soul into the infernal pits for all Eternity, let my sins be forgiven and let my soul fly free. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I do swear here that there are things that no-one should ever have to hear, see or know, and I have just spent the last few hours listening to a tale that dragged itself right out of the Pit that has left me feeling befouled merely from knowing of its existence. I wondered before why Lilith was so sure that only a person of my skills and knowledge would or could succeed in this quest, now I know, and I wish from the depths of my soul that I did not.

Liquids that burnt the flesh from the bone leaving only a blackened, charred, brittle skeleton that a touch can crumble, blades from nowhere that cut through flesh and bone like a sharp knife through bread, cutting so cleanly that for moments the injured do not know they are, hooks that spear those who do not see them, floors that collapse onto spikes that tear through men like a blade through paper, animals that slay those they catch unawares in a fashion that I will not repeat here. Moving walls and ceilings in closed rooms or opened ones, sometimes with spikes, sometimes worse, sometimes merely stone that prevents escape, leaving one to die slowly as half a mountain closes on you to the distance of a flat hand against rock, cracking bones, spurting blood and screams the only way to even know of the persons fate.

I will not go on, I cannot, I am sick to my stomach and cannot eat after that mans tale. He calls himself Enrico Illandes, and he says that he went to the Temple with three good men who knew how to survive what they were to do and ten carriers, including a guide who led them to the Temple, with plenty of food and water, well armed and prepared. He was the only survivor, and I was right, he was once much fatter than he is, he survived the trek back to this town because his bulk allowed him to go so long without food or water, although he lost much of his weight in the process. He cannot leave here after what he has seen and experienced here, and I have no difficulty understanding why. I never ask why I do these things, I do them because they are there to do or because someone has asked me to do them, but, this once, I do begin to wonder just what I am truly doing attempting what I am here.

_Diary, April 5th, 1578_

I am getting more than a little disturbed, and I am finding it more and more difficult to eat or drink as I near the Temple, as my sense of uneasiness and impending danger grows stronger and stronger. Statues have started appearing in the undergrowth, of monsters with fangs and wings like a bats, but a body like a humans, and although they have feet and hands like a humans, they have claws on the ends of their hands and feet where nails should be. They are animals, but they are not, I no longer know what I am looking at when I see them, and one had wet blood over its mouth when discovered by one of my two Native helpers yesterday. I have no idea who or what could or would make such things, or why, and I have no wish to. This place is damned, I can feel it in my bones and in my heart, should I escape here alive I will not hesitate to burn this map and ensure that my two helpers never say a thing of this place to anyone if they survive. God help me, I no longer believe that I can leave this place should I not retrieve the Chalice, although I do not know why, and my mind grows hazy as I go on.

_Diary, April 6th, 1578_

If I am not mad, then I have walked into Hell itself this day. I finally succeeded in forcing my way through the thick jungle, with my two helpers, and walked straight into a pit of death. It is beyond description, but I must try and say what I can of it here, before what is left of my mind deserts me.

The pit was as deep as ten tall men, and at least as wide and long, yet it was full of the dead, old and new, of every kind and being. Human remains were obvious, skeletons, some with broken bones, some missing parts, one with a caved in skull done by a force that I do not even want to consider. Some other corpses still had fragments of flesh and hair hanging from them, eyes, ears, skin, organs that should be inside them obvious to the eye. Some look newly dead, with only pale, rotting skin and flesh slowly decaying to even show that death has occurred, although these seem to often be missing limbs or heads or chunks of themselves, as though some force literally cut them pieces before their death.

However, what is worst is those that are fresh, and I even recognise some of them from the man I met in _Papadras _descriptions of those that he came to this place with, although he and his could never have seen what I do now or they would not have continued any further. As it is, that they did continue on is obvious, and the expressions on their faces, or sometimes what is left of their faces, as well as the looks in their eyes tell me more than I ever wanted to know about what must be ahead of me now. It is an old saying that you can see the last thing that a dead man saw before his death if you look into his eyes, and now all that I can say is that I wish that I had never tried to discover the truth of this. The looks on their faces would chill the soul of one already dead, and the faintest glimmer of what they saw that is left in their eyes would make the blood of any hero freeze in their veins. Whatever did this spared nothing that could move, animals, insects, all are in this pit, all are of the dead.

My two helpers would not go on, and I would not wish them to, I should not myself but I cannot stop. They will tell no-one of this place, that I am sure of, should they even survive the journey back to their homes, they have seen too much here, yet there is more to come. For me, should I survive long enough to see any or all of it. I can feel it all about me now, almost smell it, the smell of death, decay, of corruption and of evil that I dare not name here. I have felt it move about me at night, in the trees and all about me, tempting and taunting me as it moves. I cannot withstand much more of this, yet I cannot flee, and I cannot fight. No-one can help me now, no matter my state. Damn you, Lilith, for condemning me to this, damn you to Hell, and I hope the Fallen One himself comes for you at your end!

_Diary, April 8th, 1578_

I was wrong, there are worse things than death. If I had not seen what I had just seen with my own eyes, I would never have believed it. I do not want to believe it, _Madre di dios, _I cannot believe it, but I saw and touched it with my own eyes and hands, and the bloodstains on my hands and face are proof if I needed any of a horror that has come from Hell itself to haunt me and any others foolish enough to move this far into this place.

I am no stranger to death and what goes with it, but the stomach of the Lord himself would have been turned had he set foot here and seen and sensed what I have. I admit here, I must ask which Lord my prayers will truly be heard by. The land here is strange by itself, and the further I go, the stranger things get. If I am not asleep and having a nightmare, I no longer have any illusions about what I am walking into with my eyes wide open. Plants die, the ground becomes sandy, trees bend into unnatural shapes and shadows appear where there can be none. I hear strange noises as I walk, chittering, laughing, hisses as though from snakes that I know are not, screams sound from shadows and I swear on my soul that I did look into the Abyss with my eyes wide open one night when I awoke and found myself staring straight into the deepest, darkest shadow I have ever seen-and something blinked as I watched. I slept no more that night, and I dare not dwell on what I saw, lest I understand what it was.

Dark clouds swirl overhead all the time, but there is no wind and the air almost seems to shimmer it is so hot. I have seen no rain or water since I entered this place, and, with my helpers gone, I am almost out of water. I thirst, but have almost no way of slacking it, except one I refuse to even consider in this place. In the desert, if one ran out of water, my old tutor, who taught me how to survive in almost any conditions, forced me to learn that for the person to live, the ride may have to die. I have no ride here, but the idea would still be sound-were I not unquestionably ending my own life if I do so. The evil and corruption of this place spreads through contact of any kind, and I am sure that it will eventually devour this land if left unchecked, and anywhere else that it be carried to. My clothes were not new when I came here, but were sturdy and well-sewn. Since I entered this place, I have quickly found my clothing to be rotting away, tearing and falling apart faster and faster as I move deeper into this place. My skin is covered with slime of a kind that I cannot see, but can feel, and cannot remove no matter what I do. I feel as though I have been enveloped in oil, that still slides over and around me as I move as though it has just touched me. It has forced its way into every nook and cranny of my body, and my hair is plastered to my head by a combination of my continual sweating and this slime. I find it hard at times to even open my eyes, as though they are slowly being gummed shut by the slime.

I have not stopped sweating since I entered this place, and I am sure I have lost weight in that time to no small degree because of it and my meagre rations. I will run out of food as well as water soon, but such a fate is preferable to me if I must choose between such a death and what happened to the remains I discovered. I can see them as clearly now as I could yesterday, when I found them, after I finished vomiting.

Twelve bodies, mounted six to each side of the path to the Temple, the entrance to which I can now see, only recognisable as once human since enough of their bodies were left to make clear what they had once been. Six men and six women's bodies, three of each on each side, a man then a woman, one after the other, a spear holding them off of the floor driven through their backs and out of their chests through their hearts, or where their hearts would have been. Arms and legs cleaned of flesh and muscle, pure white bone, were tied together behind them, the bones broken and melted, somehow, back together in different ways for each victim. Whatever did this tied their arms to their legs after stripping their limbs to the bone, how I will not imagine. The head of each was severed, stuck atop a spear next to the body, with eyes and tongue ripped out. The torso's had been opened up completely, the ribs split to each side in bloody shards and mangled flesh as though something had torn the chest open of each with its bare hands, as had happened to the heads, jagged bone and ragged flesh sticking out of the head and neck. In each, it was clear that the heart was missing, and most of what was left seemed to have been eaten by some abomination against nature.

I know the damage that predators of the dead cause a corpse, and what had been done to these bodies resembled nothing more than a brutal, vicious attack by a being of human size and shape possessed of a savagery beyond my comprehension. I thought I had seen the most savage, brutal attacks that it was possible for one man to visit upon another in my travels after all I have seen and done, but what occurred to those people was beyond anything that anyone I have ever seen or known could have dreamt of in their worst nightmares. Every bodies back was broken, and enough blood covered each body and the spears that they were impaled on to tell me that their deaths had been truly hideous and a long time in coming. Worst of all were the expressions on what remained of the faces of the corpses, those I will not forget should I see out a whole century after this moment. They are etched into my soul and my mind, and I now know without question that I am in Hell. The injuries to the bodies were all caused before decapitation occurred, of that I am certain. I am also certain that they died with the decapitation. How I know I do not wish to ponder, but one can tell these things sometimes when one sees sights such as this, and I am better acquainted with death than most. I will leave this here, and pray for their souls this night.

_Diary, April 9th, 1578_

I do not know who or what has been here in times past, or may be here now, but this cave stinks of evil and corruption in ways hard to comprehend. It is a massive cave, as tall and broad as a Galleons mainmast at its greatest extent, as dark as the deepest night without the slightest trace of even the dim light from outside this place penetrating. If I had no torches, I could not see the floor itself, let alone anything that could possibly be about me, but that same light has revealed to me things I did not wish to see. Things have been here which have no business on Gods Earth, and I do not believe that they have truly left.

A massive skeleton lies in the middle of the cave, like a dragon but with tiny forelegs and with no wings, although that it had massive legs and a tail is obvious from its remains. Its skeleton is all that is left of it, and it is of nothing I know, although its mighty teeth tell me it was a hunter of flesh. Nothing else would need such size and teeth. Its head was apart from its body, however, so some being somehow succeeded in slaying it, although I know not what since nothing lies near it. Uncountable numbers of insects cover the floor, but not one survives, as though some poison somehow slew them all at once. I swear that the numbers I see could easily have covered every part of the cave with many to spare, black as the cave itself even in death, their hard shells remaining yet, but still there is no trace of life in this cursed place except for myself. Death itself could have walked here with no greater effect than what I have seen, but it was not Death that did so. Something else did this, and it is still here.

My heart is stone, as cold as ice, I feel nothing, care for nothing, hunger and thirst gnaw at me, my mind begins to swirl and my body to fail, but I will not give in, I will not fall to whatever did this here, to whatever is coming for me. No matter what happens from now on, I shall not be found wanting when my time is at hand.

I am not the first human to set foot here, I have known for a time now, but now I no longer have any doubt that it was not one of those who came here before me who slew that creature in the cave. Nothing from this Earth could have forged the blade I now hold, let alone have wielded it. I enter its description here, so that anyone who should find this diary and not me knows what I do.

The sword is three foot long, double-edged with a blade that could cut silk in mid-air and a point that could cut through flesh and bone as though they were paper. The entire weapon is of a darkness so great that it stands out even in the darkness of this cave with no light upon it, and the weapon is entirely of some metal that is ice-cold to the touch and never warms. Extending from the top of the hilt above and below, guarding the hand, are two extensions of the hilt. The hilt was intended for a hand larger than mine, I can fight wielding it double handed with room to spare. The hilt is metal, but is shaped so that it fits perfectly into the hand. Midway up the blade, extending an inch from either edge, are extensions of the blade. Small blade-like extensions, like the blade itself, which extend first of all out and clear of the blade then go upwards like the sword. Runes cover the entire blade, but mean nothing to me. However, the blade is feather light and perfectly balanced, and I admit that I doubt that there are many, if any, finer blades than this. It is strange, but, somehow, it comforts me, and I often hold it just to feel its touch and to know its presence more clearly. I feel something in the sword reaching out to me, encircling my heart, wrapping itself around my soul, but I am not afraid, it is like welcoming back a long lost lover, or a true friend who you would trust with anything. I do not fear what is here any longer, let it come now, how it will, how it dares.

If I write anything in this diary again, it will likely be from beyond the grave. It is coming for me now, it has accepted my challenge and soon we will fight. I can almost see it, bloody red and midnight black, tall and massive, with muscles the size of my hips in its arms and tiny eyes concealing a mind that has practised nightmares in the flesh for longer than any of our so-called civilisations, small horns extending from its head. I am stalked by my own death, and I await it with ready blade, but first, I must record one last thing here. With my mind free of almost all other worries and concerns, it has finally come to me where I had heard the name of Lilith before.

She is the daughter of the last remaining member of the Knights of the Dragon, those who fell from grace and power many years ago now. After one of their most respected suffered a loss of legend, and fell into Hell willingly to reclaim it, only to find that the Father of Lies trickery is truly beyond all mortal comprehension. He who drank of the blood, the Dark Bird, the nightmare, he who stalks the night. I sold my soul without even knowing it, and now I pay the price. It is here, I hear its claws scraping the ground, its bulk thumping into the ground with each step. Whoever may find this whenever you do, I ask but one thing in exchange for what is written here. Say a prayer for me before you leave, for I know not where I go.

(_This is the last entry in the diary, and when I found the diary it had bloodstains on it and was lying near a corpse, so it would seem safe to assume that Ms Toleros never left the cave. However, there are complications that make me question this. First, the body was decayed to the point that only the skeleton remained, which was itself cracked and broken, in pieces to some degree, suggesting a brutal battle took place. However, while I am no expert on this, and I could not have this verified since the body was buried when the Temple was destroyed, the body did not strike me as correct anatomically for a woman's remains. Second, even in the climate in question, it is unlikely that a metal sword of the kind that Ms Toleros described would have rusted away even over such a period of time, yet there was no sword in evidence. Third, the body I discovered was inside the treasure room of the Temple, yet I find it highly unlikely that, if Ms Toleros survived the fight and made it as far as the treasure room, that there would be no note of this if she had gone to the trouble of taking her diary with her, whether or not she was injured. This raises the possibility of someone else having been there since her but before myself, who found her diary and took it with them to the treasure room, but died there somehow. An attack from something would have seemed the most obvious, since the injuries that the body had to have come from either a sharp weapon of some kind, which means a human or an animal armed naturally or otherwise in a way that would allow it or them to inflict such injuries. _

_However, with what was mentioned by Ms Toleros combined with my own experiences, I suspect that the source of the assault may have been neither, but something far worse. However, again, with the destruction of the Temple I had no time to check any theories I had regarding the place if I was to get out alive, especially in the state I was in. Therefore, it may have been Ms Toleros's remains, but it could also have been somebody else's, and I have no way to find out for sure, as stated. However, I've always hated mysteries, so I did a little research on what Ms Toleros mentioned in her diary, and came up with some interesting answers, which would have been far more useful if I had known about them before I was led to the Temple myself by a series of events. Here they are, for what good they are now. _

_The Ruby Chalice: very little exists on this, but I was able to verify that Lilith was referring to an object that likely exists. The Ruby Chalice is an item of mystical power, the origins of which I was unable to discover. If drunken from after a certain ritual which was not described is carried out it will supposedly massively enhance the person who has drunken from its physical abilities to a level that could be best described as superhuman, as well as strengthening the mind and awakening the spirit. However, I was able to tell that it is supposed to drain the blood of any who hold it, as was stated, so no living thing can use it, which leads me to wonder what possible use Lilith could have had in mind for it. _

_The Temple in the north-east of what is now Brazil: I know for a fact that I can recognise almost any ancient cultures symbols and markings if I have time to see and study them, but I only recognised one or two of the markings in the Temple, and they were the last I had ever expected to see. A combination of Druidic and Atlantean symbols covered parts of the walls, but all I had time to decipher was that they were warning of danger of some kind. Partially scrubbed-out symbols were around the mouth of the cave, scraped away as though by claws. Druid warding symbols for certain, but also at least two other kinds of wards from cultures whom I know nothing about, nor could find out anything about. Interesting, to say the least, no? _

_Lilith herself: putting together the name, the references to the Knights of the Dragon, the Dark Bird, the nightmare and he who stalks the night, I can come up with only one reference as to whom Ms Toleros could have been referring to, incredible as it sounds even to me. The Dark Bird is a reference to the Lord of the night himself, although he is better known as Vlad of the family Dracul, or, to be direct, Dracula. The Knights of the Dragon was an Order of Knights sworn to the Christian Church who fought in the battle against the Ottoman Empires (that's Turkey to you and me, although it used to be a lot bigger than it is now) invasion of Europe after taking Constantinople. Dracula was known as one of their greatest Knights, a military genius, but also as a bloodthirsty psychopath who earned his title of "Vlad the Impaler" by having all of his enemies impaled on spears points. Precisely what loss he suffered is unknown, but he is thought to have died shortly after returning home after the battle and suffering some great loss. Whatever he did before this caused the Knights of the Dragon such disgrace that the entire Order was disbanded soon after this, in the late fifteenth century, but that's enough of the history lesson. I could find no mention anywhere else of Lilith except as a fictional being who supposedly preceded Eve in the Garden of Eden, but who was too independently minded so was replaced by Eve. But something occurred to me, although I cannot prove it. _

_Vlad Dracul had a wife as far as I can tell, why could he not have had children or relatives? The name of Lilith and a relation to Dracula cannot be coincidental in my opinion. This is just my opinion, however, feel free to draw your own whoever's reading this if it's not me. However, to sum up, there was no concrete evidence available that Ms Toleros did die in that cave, nor that she did not, despite the presence of a body, and I have no way of telling for sure yes or no due to the Temples destruction. I did not find this Ruby Chalice, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't there somewhere. I have no definite answer as to who this Lilith was, but have some very interesting possibilities. Still, too many loose ends remain, I'll have to keep an eye open for any more answers or information I might come across. As I said, I hate mysteries. Anyway, enough of this, I'm not going to find the answers sitting around like this, now, am I? Back to the real world, lets let the dead rest in peace-unless they've still got to be discovered of course...LC)_

**THE END?**


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